DISHES OF CLAY 
“See how this dirt is falling down from the bank,” 
said Buddy, one day when all the children and Uncle 
Jack were walking along the creek. 
“I don’t like to hear you call that dirt,” remarked 
Uncle Jack. “It is better to call it soil, or earth. Soil 
only becomes dirt when it is where it should not be, on 
your face or in the house. But we could not live without 
the soil. There would be no flowers, no trees, no animals, 
no people.” 
“I never thought of that before,” said Buddy. “But, 
Uncle Jack, what makes this yellow earth fall down in 
hard little pieces?” 
“That is clay. It is a kind of soil that, when it gets 
dry, becomes very hard. There are some pieces that 
have rolled into the water. See if they are hard, also.” 
Bess picked up some of the pieces and squeezed them 
in her hand. 
“Oh, they are soft!” she cried. “Won’t they make 
beautiful play dishes?” 
So Marylee and Bess began to make some little cups, 
saucers, and plates. Fred tried to make a boat, and 
Buddy rolled some into marbles. 
“The Indians made their real dishes of clay,” con¬ 
tinued Uncle Jack. “They mixed a little very fine sand 
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